“Gawd!” Jacob shouted. “My family is from Brooklyn. As in New York. U S of A. Hearda that before?” He slipped into a heavy New York accent. “I know nothing about those, those skinny Jews.” And his mind glanced upon his two surviving grandparents, and their oddities—strange outbursts and Polish accents—and it skipped over the other two grandparents he’d never met because they died in the European camps until his mind settled comfortably on the lie he’d just told, perched there like a hawk grasping a struggling squirrel in one claw.
They sat in silence.
“You’re going to drive me crazy,” Jacob said, tossing guilt for disowning his family disguised as anger at the girls.
Sher was now intent on the people going into the church. The church door shut and no one entered for a few minutes. Then
